New pack burro racers in Idaho Springs, Colo., compete in this shorter course as they try their hand at the sport.

Megan Verlee for NPR

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Originally published on July 19, 2012 9:08 am

First thing you need to know about burro racing — there's no riding. It's you on one end of a rope, hundreds pounds of equine on the other. And the burro, says Brad Wann, is the boss.

"Your burro gets up just like you do every day and he goes, 'I want to run' or 'Nah, I'm not running today.' So you just never know what you're going to get," says Wann, who is with the Western Pack Burro Ass-ociation. And yes, they love their puns.

Pack burro racing is the only sport that can claim to be born in — and still be pretty much confined to — Colorado. It might also be the state's smallest sport. And in Fairplay, Colo., the pack burro racing world champion will receive his crown after a 29-mile course up and down a 13,000-foot mountain pass on Sunday.

Some of the competitors are veterans, but not Chris Westermann, who stumbled upon pre-race chaos recently. He was driving by on his way to an endurance race when he pulled off the highway for a pit stop.

"Use the restroom, come down the street and we're like, 'Look at all those cool donkeys,' " Westermann says. "We come over like, 'What's going on?' They're like, 'It's a race.' Can we enter? 'Sure, let's find you a donkey.' "

A moment later, Willie, the borrowed donkey, mistook Westermann's finger for a carrot. Despite his bruised digit, he was still pumped for his accidental new sport.

The 40 or so racers parading to the starting line make this a huge event. And the sport got a big honor from the state Legislature this year.

"This is the first official race of Colorado's official summer heritage sport, the sport of pack burro racing," Ass-ociation President Bill Lee proudly tells the crowd.

And with that, the burros are off.

Legend has it the sport started with two miners racing each other to file a claim. In honor of that story, every donkey here is carrying a pick, shovel and gold pan on its back.

But alas, according to longtime racer Hal Walter, burro racing actually began in the 1940s as the offspring of another Colorado industry: tourism.

"The sport was started as the brainstorm of merchants in Fairplay to get people to town for their local summer festival," Walter says. "There was a $500 prize, and everybody got a case of beer I believe."

Walter likes the connection to Colorado's mining past, apocryphal as it may be, but it's the adventure sport aspect that keeps him hooked.

"You're on rugged terrain, you're at high altitude, you're subject to the elements, and what may look like a joke to some people is really a difficult sport to win," Walter says.

I had to give burro racing a shot. It takes a while to get Laredo, a donkey, running. And then, once he is, all I can do is try to keep up, flying down the trail, dodging roots and rocks. It's definitely an extreme sport even if the view can get a bit monotonous.

Back at the race, the first donkeys are sprinting for the finish line, their humans struggling to keep up. Westermann, the endurance racer with the bitey burro, arrives in fifth place.

Later this month, the world's best athletes will compete for top honors, but not only at the London Olympics. In a Colorado town named Fairplay on July 29th, a world champion will be crowned. A champion of pack burro racing and that drew the curiosity of Colorado Public Radio's Megan Verlee.

MEGAN VERLEE, BYLINE: The first thing you need to know about burro racing - there's no riding. It's you on one end of a rope, hundreds of pounds of equine on the other and the burro, says Brad Wann, is the boss.

BRAD WANN: Your burro gets up just like you do every day and he goes, I want to run or, no, I'm not running today. But you just never know what you're going to get.

VERLEE: Wann is with the Western Pack Burro Ass-ociation and, yes, they love their puns. He was standing in the middle of pre-race chaos at a recent event. Some of the competitors here are veterans, but not Chris Westermann. He was just driving by on his way to an endurance race when he pulled off the highway for a pit stop.

CHRIS WESTERMANN: Use the rest room, come down the street, and we're like, look at all those cool donkeys. We come over, like, what's going on? They're like, it's a race. Can we enter? Sure. Let's find you a donkey. Ah, you got my thumb.

VERLEE: That was the moment Willie, the borrowed donkey, mistook Westermann's finger for a carrot. Despite his bruised digit, Westermann was still pumped for his accidental new sport.

WESTERMANN: We're going to try to win this thing. I hope Willie's fast.

VERLEE: Pack burro racing is the only sport that can claim to be born in - and still pretty much confined to - Colorado. It might also be the state's smallest sport.

The 40 or so racers parading to the starting line make this a huge event and the sport got a big honor from the state legislature this year as ass-ociation president Bill Lee proudly tells the crowd.

BILL LEE: This is the first official race of Colorado's official summer heritage sport, the sport of pack burro racing.

(SOUNDBITE OF CROWD CHEERING)

VERLEE: And, with that, the burros are off. Legend has it the sport started with two miners racing each other to file a claim. In honor of that story, every donkey here is carrying a pick, shovel and gold pan on its back, but alas, according to longtime racer, Hal Walter, burro racing actually began in the 1940s as the offspring of another Colorado industry, tourism.

HAL WALTER: The sport was started as the brainstorm of merchants in Fairplay to get people to town for their local summer festival. There was a $500 prize and everybody got a case of beer, I believe.

VERLEE: Walter likes the connection to Colorado's mining past, apocryphal as it may be, but it's the adventure sport aspect that keeps him hooked. The longest race, 29 miles up and down a 13,000-foot pass might be America's oldest ultra-marathon.

WALTER: You're on rugged terrain, you're at high altitude, you're subject to the elements and what may look like a joke to some people, it's really a difficult sport to win.

VERLEE: Well, can I give a shot at burro racing?

WALTER: Sure. OK. Hup, hup, hup.

VERLEE: Hup. Come on, I had to try it. It takes a while to get Laredo running and then once he is, all I can do is try to keep up, flying down the trail dodging roots and rocks. It's definitely an extreme sport, even if the view can get a bit monotonous.

You ever get tired of looking at the rear end of a burro?

WALTER: No, actually.

(SOUNDBITE OF PEOPLE CHEERING)

VERLEE: Back at the race, the first donkeys are sprinting for the finish line, their humans struggling to keep up. Chris Westermann, the endurance racer with the bitey burro, arrives in fifth place.